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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145958">the common factor.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofcauldrons/pseuds/knightofcauldrons'>knightofcauldrons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Feels, Detective Logic | Logan Sanders, Detective Noir, Homoeroticism, M/M, POV Second Person, Thief Deceit | Janus Sanders, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, because i LOVE writing second person so much its ridiculous, i cant believe im using the word feels. but, will probably write a sequel tho tbh because. Loose Ends Tm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:54:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofcauldrons/pseuds/knightofcauldrons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Detective Logan Lovegreen.</p><p>You have a chat with a thief named Declan Marsh. Or maybe his name is Lyal DeClue. Or maybe it's Elias Hawthorne. Or maybe it's-</p><p>Well. You're sure you'll figure it out soon enough.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Deceit | Janus Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the common factor.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Consider the following; </p><p>This man, who sheds his aliases like a snake shedding skin, who wears a different name every other month. This man named Lyal-Declan-Elias-<em>whatever</em>, who’s <em>certainly</em> plotting <em>something</em> but you haven’t quite figured out yet what that <em>something</em> is. You shouldn’t trust him. That’s the logical conclusion. </p><p> </p><p>Consider the following; </p><p>This man. The top button of his shirt loose, his hair soft and combed back, his dual-colored eyes looking at you over the top of his tinted circular sunglasses. His lips curved into a small gentle smile, his voice that’s like a purr. “My dear detective,” he says sometimes. You want nothing more than to trust him, to let yourself fall and to know that he’ll catch you. That’s the illogical conclusion.</p><p> </p><p>You’ve always been one for the <em>logical</em> conclusions. Hell, you’re a detective, goddammit. You use your brain and don’t have time for the heart. Even if the heart beats a little harder and a little faster whenever he lays eyes on you, even if you start to feel a little warm around him it’s probably just the beginning of a fever. (After meeting him you’ve checked your temperature, locking eyes with your reflection in the bathroom mirror, about ten different times now. You haven’t been sick yet. You haven’t been sick in ages.)</p><p> </p><p>“So, dear detective?” he says, gazing up at you. “Am I free to go?”</p><p>You glare at him. “Free to go”? You’re not finished here. <em>(And a part of you never wants him to leave. Whoever he is.)</em></p><p>“Absolutely not,” you say.</p><p>“Oh?” </p><p>He smirks at you. You think you want to kiss that smug smirk off his face. “You want me to stay so badly? Well, my dear, you could’ve simply just <em>asked</em>. Wouldn’t be so bad if maybe I stayed for a glass of whiskey.”</p><p>You sigh. “Something’s not adding up,” you say, because there’s a corkboard in your head and there’s a spool of red thread. </p><p>“<em>What</em> isn’t adding up, my dear?” he asks, crossing his legs, leaning forward, an eyebrow raised. Head tilted a little bit like he wants to hear you speak, like he just wants to hear the sound of your voice.</p><p>“You. I just. Don’t understand! Lyal. Declan. Elias. Whoever you are.” <em>Whoever he is.</em></p><p>He waves a dismissive hand, seeming unbothered, almost amused.  “<em>Elias</em>, darling. Elias works for now. That one’s the current name, at least.”</p><p>“Okay. Elias, then. Now tell me why you have four different names.”</p><p>He chuckles, the sound low and brassy and makes your stomach flip over. </p><p>Goddammit. Focus, Lovegreen.</p><p>Think of it like this. </p><p> </p><p>In front of you is a puzzle, not a person.</p><p>Put together the puzzle, Lovegreen. </p><p>Don’t think about the person.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, darling!” he says, the sound of a laugh still in his voice, “I have <em>much more</em> than four names. Would you perhaps be interested in a Damian Ethos? Or perhaps, an Ethan Viper? Oh, I could also go on and on about one, ah, what was it? One Mordecai Goldworth, I believe it was?” He smiles at you. </p><p> </p><p>You frown at him. He seems to delight in it. Of course he does.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a thief,” you say. “A criminal.” You’re not saying that to prove a point. You’re just thinking out loud, reading off your internal bullet point list as if it’ll get you somewhere, as if it’ll put the pieces together. </p><p>“Amazing how you’re correct, darling!” Elias says, a lilt of good-natured humor in his voice. “Am I getting that whiskey?”</p><p>You roll your eyes. Decide to pour him a glass. Maybe it’ll make his tongue looser. You could use any drop of information. </p><p>“Darling,” Elias says, picking up one of the glasses with a delicate long-fingered hand. “Does it matter, who I am?”  </p><p> </p><p>Does it matter?</p><p>Well. Of course it matters.</p><p>
  <em>(Matters to you.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Matters to me.” </p><p>“I’m flattered.” He says it like it’s a joke, but. You think he’s being genuine. </p><p> </p><p>“Would you like to know what doesn’t make sense to me?” you say to him. “Declan Marsh. Lyal DeClue. Elias Hawthorne. Three different aliases for three different cons and each con took place in the same city. Isn’t it weird?” </p><p>“It’s a very big city,” said Elias easily.</p><p>You give him a look. </p><p>“<em>Not big enough.</em> Three cons, same city. Now why is that? I know what sort of thief you are. You’re a <em>good</em> one.”</p><p>“Why thank you!” he says, a hand up to his heart. You think he’s exaggerating. You think maybe he’s a little actually flattered. Perhaps a little prideful. </p><p>You roll your eyes. </p><p>“A <em>good</em> thief arrives, does a con. Then <em>leaves</em>. Without a trace. A good thief doesn’t loiter like that, a good thief doesn’t take that risk. A good thief <em>disappears like the wind</em>.”</p><p>Elias smiled, a little wryly. “Never expected something so poetic from you, Logan Lovegreen.” </p><p>Shit. Was that poetic? You’re not sure.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(You think, maybe, you could wax poetry about how his hair catches the fluorescent light of your office, how his eyes gaze at you, how he talks to you like he knows something that you don’t.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Here’s the thing. That first con? Flawless. And the second and third ones? Flawless, sure, but. They were rushed, weren’t they?” </p><p>Finally. A moment where Elias drops the easy smile, a crack in the facade.</p><p>You’re onto him. You know it. Elias knows it too. </p><p>“Why even bother with those two cons? It’s like you <em>want</em> to leave. But you’re <em>stalling</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>You lean forward. <em>“What are you stalling for?”</em></p><p>(No place to hide now, Elias Hawthorne.) </p><p>
  <em>“What’s still tying you to this city?”</em>
</p><p>(No place to hide.)</p><p> </p><p>“There’s nothing much here. Not really. Not in this city. Why stay? It’d be much more efficient to leave, find a better job elsewhere. Why risk doing three cons in the same unimportant city? What’s so important that it’s <em>keeping</em> you here?” </p><p> </p><p>Elias looks like he doesn’t know how to respond. </p><p>You so badly want him to respond. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(You need to know.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Elias looks away, looks back at you. “<em>Nothing</em>,” he says. “There’s nothing keeping me here,” and he’s lying.</p><p>And he’s a very, <em>very</em> good liar but he is <em>lying</em> and you can <em>tell</em>.</p><p>You’re usually able to tell when he lies. It’s a little hard, sometimes, but you’re usually able to tell.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(Elias is too good at lying and you’re too observant. Unstoppable force vs. immovable object. Who wins?)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>But. <em>This</em>? The shifting eyes, the twitching smile. It’s only a moment when his facade cracks, but it’s a moment longer than is usual for him.  </p><p>You caught him off-guard, somehow. </p><p> </p><p>Then he’s back to normal, unfazed. </p><p> </p><p>Damn, he’s too good at that.</p><p>(Not good enough, not for you. Every little twitch of his face. You’ll always be able to tell. Call it observancy. Or call it infatuation. You’re not sure if there’s a difference, anymore, not when it comes to Elias Hawthorne.)</p><p> </p><p>“You’re, a... <em>Very</em> intelligent man, Logan Lovegreen. Very intelligent indeed.” There’s a softness to his voice. It’s odd. “So you tell me. What was common about each of those cons?” </p><p>There’s nothing in common. Not much anyways. So you don’t know how to answer him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Well.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>“Me,”</em> you mutter. <em>“The common factor was that I was there.”</em></p><p> </p><p>He stares at you, blinks a few times. Gives you a small smile. It’s the smallest smile you’ve seen from him. It’s the most genuine one you’ve seen too.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” he agrees. “<em>The common factor was that you were there, Logan Lovegreen.</em>” </p><p> </p><p>And, fuck. You’re a smart man, Logan Lovegreen. You know what the implications are, there.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I don’t trust you,” you say. “You have to know that. I don’t trust you.”</em>
</p><p>Elias’ face almost seems to fall but the motion is so minute it’s hard to tell.</p><p>“I know. I know. Trust and love don’t have to be the same thing, Logan.” He looks away. He looks almost guilty. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(He’s asking you to love him but he is not asking you to trust him. Like being loved is too much for him to ask. Like he doesn’t already know that you love him.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(Well. Does he know?)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>(You hope he does.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p> “Or. Well,” Elias says, backtracking. “I am, still, a thief. You’re a detective.” </p><p>You almost laugh. “It’s not like I’m police, Elias. Just a private eye. Not like we’re on different sides.”</p><p>“So, then?” </p><p>(You think you want to kiss him. You’re not going to but. You want to.)</p><p> </p><p>He swallows a little. “You’re right about the three cons, same city thing. Not a good idea, I’m sure there must be <em>someone</em> on my tail right now. I. Really should leave.”</p><p>“Yes,” you agree, half-listening. “Of course.”</p><p>“Janus, by the way. Janus Sinclair.”</p><p>You almost snort. “Another alias?”</p><p>“No. Not this time.”</p><p> </p><p>You want to ask what he means by that, but then he’s walking out the door and you’re left in your office alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i literally just wrote this cuz i was bored aldjlkdgjkjh. YES i definitely took quite a bit of inspiration from the penumbra podcast what of it </p><p>pls hit that kudos button!! and if u comment i will personally propose to you &lt;333 im joking but like. comments are greatly appreciated!!!!!!! and maybe check out my other sanders sides fics too lol </p><p>yell at me about sanders sides at my tumblr sideblog @dear-ol-duke</p></blockquote></div></div>
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